


sideways in our drift

by cathedralhearts



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1833766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathedralhearts/pseuds/cathedralhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a tie, which is how it should be when you find your drift partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sideways in our drift

**Author's Note:**

> Things to be noted before you read:
> 
> \- Geno was born in 1991 in this. Sidney’s a year younger accordingly and there’s only four years between him and Taylor  
> \- Stacker Pentecost was a Ranger until late 2016 in canon. I’ve retired him earlier so he’s Marshal by the time the Vladivostok Shatterdome is built  
> \- Russian conscription is only twelve months, but I’ve extended it to two years  
> \- There's one more thing, and Canadians are going to think I'm a dumbass who can't Google or something. I promise you I'm aware about the thing, and the explanation is in the bottom notes but I didn't want to include it up here because ~spoiler
> 
> Most of my background info came from an amazing [Google Maps account](https://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&oe=UTF8&msa=0&msid=216530927751101346872.0004e39b92706d3090706&dg=feature) with a ton of canon from the movie/novelisation, along with the PACRIM Wiki. I’ve tried to stay as true as I can to the source material but holy shit there’s so much D:

“My parents warned me about the drugs in the streets, but never the ones with hazel eyes and a heartbeat.” -- For Him series, [#2](http://unpoeticheartbreak.tumblr.com/post/80125882850/my-parents-warned-me-about-the-drugs-in-the)

 

* * *

 

The Vladivostok Shatterdome opens in December, 2016.

Evgeni hears about it while he’s in Pittsburgh at the first facility, codenamed JAEGER. It’s not much of a codename, he sulks as he lifts another spoon of the goop they’re serving. He wishes for his mama’s cooking. The news from Hong Kong is relaying on several vids around the mess, reporting that Reckoner just went down thanks to Herc and Scott Hansen. Some of the technicians cheer, and a few Rangers fire off sloppy salutes before turning back to their food. Evgeni just shakes his head.

The only news he’s concerned about is coming from home, and President Putin holds a press conference mere hours after the kaiju kill. It seems that Russia has finally had enough of its best and brightest being trained by Americans. There are Russians all over the Pittsburgh facility, and everyone’s excited at the chance to go home.

Evgeni’s story is no more remarkable than most of the men and women wandering around the place with scars, swaggers and slumped shoulders of their own. Burdens are everywhere, and he accepted he probably wasn’t going to be anything special. Being a Ranger is a rare and precious thing, and he’s blessed to be given the opportunity. He’s under no illusions that one day he won’t return from a kaiju attack. He just wants to do as much as he can for people before that happens.

“You look like a basset hound when you’re thinking depressing thoughts,” Oksana’s voice floats over, and he looks up to see her standing in front of the table, Sasha Kaidonovsky next to her. They’re both smirking at him. He went through basic back in Russia with Sasha and her husband Aleksis as his trainers, meeting Oksana after she finished the technician course. They’d travelled together to Pittsburgh four months later for ‘specialist training’ while their Shatterdome was being finished. There’s been nothing special trained into them while they’ve been in America, and Evgeni knows a bunch of bullshit when he hears it. They all came for him.

“Where’s Aleksis?” he asks, ignoring Oksana and reaching for his cup.

“Probably off being a fool with your technician. Did you hear about Vladivostok?” Sasha asks. Evgeni nods, showing her the news reel plastered across the screen of his tablet.

“I guess this means we’ll be headed back soon,” Oksana says.

Evgeni squirms in his chair. He _does_ want to go home but the Russians had a world of trouble finding someone he was drift compatible with, then the Americans told his government they’d find a copilot for him. He’s been in Pittsburgh for a while now and they’ve been testing him hours a day. He’s so sick of kendo.

“I can’t go until they find me someone,” he finally says. Oksana clucks her tongue.

“Typical Zhenya, being so picky that no one on God’s Earth is good enough for you,” she says. Evgeni glares -- what a pack of lies. _He’s_ not picky, but apparently his brain is.

They leave him to his meal and he turns back to his tablet, frowning over the schematics being shown of the new Shatterdome, while President Putin talks in the background. He wants to leave, but he can’t do that until he finds a copilot. Everything’s hopelessly intertwined.

 

* * *

 

The Canadians arrive a week later, six of them piling out a Jumphawk and squinting in the sunlight. The base is buzzing about their abilities and who they’ll be partnered with. There are three Rangers, two technicians and a doctor.

Evgeni’s in the middle of another copilot finding session, bleeding from the mouth. He keeps licking at it, the metallic tang reminding him why he’s there. He knew the Canadians were coming, but his attention is not with them. His attention is on the American in front of him. He’d come swaggering into the Kwoon Combat Room with his buddies, all lip with blonde curls shorn close to his head and blue eyes that sharpened the second they stepped on the mat.

They were evenly locked a round ago, and Evgeni had dared to hope that maybe he’d finally, _finally_ have a copilot. Then the Canadians lined up against the wall by the door and it went to shit. The kid -- he didn’t bother learning their names anymore, no point -- had lost all concentration, too busy staring at the new arrivals. Evgeni’s now 3-2, best of seven.

Evgeni sweeps his legs from under him, frowning as he points the stick at the blonde’s throat. 4-2. The blonde glares, his eyes darting over Evgeni’s shoulders at the Canadians. He backflips upright, kicking up his stick and settling into a stance. Evgeni dispatches him in under a minute, dropping into the customary bow at the end. Oksana’s waiting for him, holding a towel and a water bottle. She’s only there because she’s his friend and he might’ve thrown his weight around a little to keep her there. For all her antagonising, she’s a settling force to him.

“I thought you had one there,” she murmurs. Evgeni rubs the towel through his hair and takes a long drink, nodding. His muscles are burning and he’s almost done for the day -- this is fucking hopeless.

He’d already spoken to General Lemieux, director of the facility, and informed him that he’d be shipping out to the Lima Shatterdome to try his luck there. It’s been months with nobody who comes close to being compatible, and he’s had enough.

“I understand your frustration, but just stick around a few days longer. We’ve got some new Rangers coming in looking for their own copilots. Maybe you’ll find someone?” Lemieux had said, impeccable in his military dress, pins glistening on his breast. Despite his doubts, Evgeni had agreed to stay a little longer.

Lemieux appears at the doorway and Evgeni looks over, watching as he taps one of the Canadians on the shoulder and murmurs something. The Ranger has dark eyes and is closer in height to Evgeni. He’s pretty sure this is the one the blonde lost his head over. The two of them will probably be drift compatible, once Evgeni’s done proving the inevitable.

All three of the Rangers have been watching Evgeni intently, working out his fighting style and how best to fit with him.

“I’m Captain Toews,” the dark-eyed guy says as he lines up against Evgeni on the mat. Evgeni rolls his shoulders.

“Don’t need names, you won’t last long,” Evgeni grunts, dropping into his stance.

Toews snorts.

“That’s what you think.”

 

Toews does give him a run for his money for a few rounds, but Evgeni pins him three times and leaves him sweating on the mat, swearing furiously in what could be French. Oksana’s laughing when he takes his towel and drink from her again. Evgeni’s at the end of his rope.

The next guy who comes forward is a boy who barely clears Evgeni’s elbows, but with enough muscle and the kind of grin Evgeni could get used to. His temper is on more of a hair trigger than Evgeni’s and he loses concentration too quickly. Evgeni wins 5-2.

“Enough!” he barks at Lemieux, who’s standing next to the last one.

“No. One more.” Lemieux taps the elbow of the man beside him, who strides forward and takes his shoes off, lining them up precisely against the mat. Evgeni’s lip curls. He’s furious and exhausted, and this man will be exactly the same failure the others have been. He’ll have to learn how to pilot a Jaeger by himself at this rate.

“Don’t want him,” Evgeni says as the man stretches out, doing a bit of what looks like yoga. He’s pale and shorter than Evgeni -- most are -- but he’s built powerfully, with thick biceps and an insane lower body. Evgeni watches, distracted, as the thin grey material of the t-shirt strains against the man’s arms, framing the pull and ripple of his muscles underneath.

He looks up at Evgeni, and his eyes are hazel. Evgeni’s breath catches in his throat.

“That’s a bit rude. You don’t even know me,” he says. His voice is soft and polite.

“Don’t want to know you,” Evgeni says, petulant. The man’s lips twitch, as if he’s pushing down a smile, taking a kendo stick from one of the staff.

“Looks like you’ve got a bit of a temper on you.”

“Good to have emotion,” Evgeni retorts.

“Emotion is powerful, and it brings people together. Did you think that maybe your emotions are too powerful, and it’s why you can’t find anyone?”

Evgeni doesn’t recognise the stance he drops into, but he gets ready nonetheless, stick tight between aching fingers. “What, you robot? Gonna balance me?”

“I’m not a robot. I just have more control than you.”

Evgeni grits his teeth and moves to strike first. His stick never finds its target and he ends up on the floor instead, blinking up at the lights with the butt of a stick poking against his nose.

“What,” he says.

 

They’re 3-3 within minutes. Lemieux is smirking and Oksana’s started cheering for the other man, whose name he still hasn’t bothered to learn. They always fail him, in the end.

They fight for what seems like ages on the last round, sweat blurring Evgeni’s vision and his lungs screaming for air. He ends up on his knees and jabs his stick towards the man’s crotch, but the man has him with his stick poised just next to his temple.

It’s a tie, which is how it should be when you find your drift partner.

“Looks like we’ve found you a copilot,” Lemieux says, coming to stand next to them. Evgeni struggles to his feet, swaying a little. He’s not sure if it’s relief or the fact he’s been fighting for over an hour in an effort to find this Canadian stranger. They bow at each other and Oksana appears with his towel. He rubs down his face, trying to calm his breathing.

“Sidney, this is Senior Lieutenant Evgeni Malkin. He goes by Geno. Geno, this is Private Sidney Crosby.”

Crosby holds his hand out, and Evgeni reaches to shake it.

“Private?” he asks. Crosby’s cheeks are pink from exertion, and seem to go pinker.

“I, uh. I’m not career military,” he finally says. Evgeni frowns. He’s hiding something.

“Fine. Crosby is copilot. We go to Vladivostok next week.”

“Actually, it’s been decided you’ll be based at the Anchorage Shatterdome. Brawler Yukon was destroyed in the last kaiju attack, and Chrome Brutus needs support.”

“But I-- but, _Russia_ ,” Evgeni says. Lemieux claps him on the shoulder.

“Sidney needs to stay in North America. Speak to your people, but this is what’s happening,” Lemieux says. Evgeni’s jaw clicks.

“Don’t want him if have to stay here!” he snaps as they leave.

“Yes, you do!” Lemieux calls over his shoulder, guiding Crosby outside.

Oksana sidles up closer, a smirk on her face.

“I like that one,” she says. Evgeni pushes her out the doors.

 

* * *

 

“Anchorage? But there’s nothing here,” Sanja whines as Evgeni unpacks his trunk. They’ve been in Anchorage for less than an hour and already the complaints have started. Evgeni’s surly enough as it is, and hardly in the mood for Sanja’s antics. They were forced to spend an extra week in Pittsburgh while Crosby fucked off back to Canada to take care of some ‘urgent family business’, and they’ve fallen behind the other Ranger teams in meeting their Jaegers and beginning the next stages of training.

He had used the time to work out furiously and ring home while he still could. After an emotional call to his mother, he’d connected to Colonel Gonchar, who just laughed when Evgeni gave him the copilot’s name and asked why the hell he had to stay.

“Of course. Yes, you need to stay in America. Train up in Anchorage, you can come back to Russia one day,” Gonchar said.

“Who is this man? Why does he need to stay in America?” Evgeni demanded.

“Crosby is Lemieux’s protege, and it’s understandable that he wants to keep an eye on him. We don’t need you here that badly. We have the Kaidanovskys and Eden Assassin's team,” Gonchar had said, ending the conversation not long after by promising to send a care package. Evgeni highly fucking doubts it.

“Quit bitching, you don’t have to leave the base. I’m the one who has to get in a Jaeger with Crosby,” Evgeni says, shoving his trunk across the room and wondering whether he needs to do laundry. Sanja just leans against the door, startling when someone knocks on it.

“Who is it?” Sanja singsongs.

There’s a pause, then, “Uh, it’s… Private Crosby. I’m Geno’s copilot. Is he there?”

Evgeni doesn’t even have time to tell Sanja not to dare, before his door is swinging open and Crosby’s standing there, hands shoved in his fatigues. He’s got a green knit sweater on, loose around the neck and showing off his collarbones; it brings out the colour in his eyes.

“What you want?” Evgeni asks. Sanja rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be such a grump,” Sanja says in Russian, before turning to Crosby.

“Crosby! I can call you Sid? My name is Alex, I’m Zhenya’s technician. I’m working on your new Jaeger! Pick a name yet?” he asks in a rush, reaching out to shake Crosby’s hand more vigorously than required.

“Actually that’s what I’m here about. Geno, we need to see the Jaeger and name it.” Crosby swipes his tongue over his lips.

Evgeni chokes a little at the action, before nodding. “Come on, asshole, I know you want to brag over your handiwork,” Evgeni says, grabbing Sanja in a headlock as he goes.

 

*

 

He’ll never get tired of seeing Jaegers up close. It’s powerful, sleek and fast -- mostly grey, with black and gold highlights and the PPDC logo emblazoned on the chest. There’s so much they don’t know about Jaegers and about the kaiju, but this Evgeni _feels_. He’s in love.

“Has to be something about grey,” Sanja mutters.

“No,” Evgeni says. He reaches out to touch the foot of his Jaeger, his palm warm against the cold steel. The contrast of the metal against his skin is perfect.

“What about Sierra Echo?” Crosby’s voice floats over from a few feet away. Evgeni raises an eyebrow.

“Not real Jaeger name,” he says. Crosby shrugs.

“It’s both of our names. Even if we die, we’ll still live on,” Crosby says. Evgeni blinks as he realises -- _Sierra_ , Sidney, _Echo_ , Evgeni.

“Okay,” Evgeni says. Sanja laughs.

“I think that’s the fastest I’ve ever heard you agree to anything,” Sanja chirps, ducking the knotted electrical cable that comes flying at him seconds later.

 

* * *

 

Evgeni sees Captain Toews in the mess that night, while he’s lining up for food with Crosby right behind him. They’ve been in simulation training all afternoon, and Marshal Pentecost wants their first neural handshake to happen tomorrow in a Jaeger test.

“Let’s sit with Toews,” Evgeni says to Crosby over his shoulder, not waiting for a reply.

“Hi,” he says as he slides into a spare seat across from Toews. Toews is sitting with a man around his age, with blond curls and a cheeky grin. He’s in a flight suit, with Lieutenant stripes on his arm. KANE is stamped across his breast, with a few more pins above it for his rank. Evgeni squints at his face and recognises him as the blonde kid he sparred against before he found Crosby.

“I heard you ended up with Sid,” Toews says, chewing on his roll. He hadn’t stuck around once Evgeni dispatched him.

Evgeni nods, shuffling over as Crosby appears with a tray and two cups of water.

“You forgot yours,” Crosby says, sliding it onto Evgeni’s tray and smiling at Toews. “How’s your training going?”

Kane snorts. “This asshole keeps getting too angry in sims, and unbalances the neural handshake when we’re in Chrome Brutus. We’ll get there,” he says, elbowing Toews.

“You need to take it more seriously, you’ll get us killed out there. He kept calling the Reckoner ‘sweetcheeks’ -- how am I supposed to concentrate?” Toews demands. Kane shrugs and spears at a potato.

“The same way I concentrate whenever you bitch at me about anything,” Kane says, mouth full and disgusting. “When’s your first handshake?” he asks, turning to them.

Evgeni looks at Crosby, who’s busy with his chicken and rice.

“Tomorrow,” Evgeni says. He’s kind of nervous, truth be told. He knows basic things about Crosby, but there’s a lot in Evgeni’s head he’s not sure he knows how to explain.

“You scared?”

“Yes,” Evgeni says. Crosby pauses in eating and looks at Evgeni.

“Why?”

“Because. I’m soldier for more time. I do lots in war. My memories not rainbows and maple leaf,” Evgeni says. Kane laughs, but Crosby doesn’t.

“I knew you were a soldier when I stepped onto the mat against you. Whatever you’ve done before I met you, it doesn’t matter. It’s what we do together that matters,” he says.

Evgeni’s jaw drops a little, and Crosby turns back to his food.

“You’re gonna catch flies,” Toews mutters after a few beats, and it’s enough to snap Evgeni back into action to finish his dinner.

 

* * *

 

Crosby seems nervous as they’re getting drilled and pressurised into their suits. Evgeni towers over him by almost half a foot, and Evgeni finds he likes it more than he should. He pushes it down and waits for Sanja to finish.

“You look like a massive walking dildo,” Sanja says under his breath, and Evgeni whacks him over the head. Crosby’s being helped by a guy he calls Jack. Evgeni’s only met him once. He’s big and solid, and walks with a limp.

“Ready,” Sanja says, stepping back and smirking. Evgeni waits until Jack steps away from Crosby before he pulls on his helmet, waiting for the yellow to drain from it so he can see.

“I want left side,” Evgeni says, Crosby’s breathing coming across the comm link.

“But that’s my side,” Crosby protests. Evgeni looks at Sanja, who’s about to burst into laughter, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Flip a coin?” Sanja asks them, producing one from somewhere inside his uniform.

“I’m in army longer,” Evgeni tries.

Crosby snorts. “Doesn’t matter. We’re equals now.”

“Heads or tails?” Sanja asks, like the troublemaking asshole he is.

“Heads,” Crosby says.

Sanja nods and flips. It lands on heads, and Evgeni feels his temper flicker.

“Ha,” Crosby says, pushing past to walk into the Conn Pod. Evgeni punches Sanja’s arm, hard enough that Sanja goes stumbling into the wall, swearing as Evgeni locks in to the right hemisphere. He’s done sims for right-sphere training, but not enough that he feels completely comfortable, and he’s going to make sure he sulks loud enough that Crosby knows it.

“Remember what I said before, about how everything you did before this doesn’t matter?” Crosby asks, breaking Evgeni from his vengeful reverie.

“Yes?” Evgeni says slowly. How could he not?

“I… you should say the same, for me. That my life before this doesn’t mean anything to you,” Crosby says, looking at him from the left.

“I don’t know,” Evgeni says, and Crosby’s face falls.

“We see what so bad that Crosby did, first. Then I decide if I like you or not,” he adds, wanting desperately to get that look off Crosby’s face. It does the trick as Crosby laughs, pressing the buttons to turn their comms to the LOCCENT Control.

“Malkin and Crosby, reporting in,” Crosby says.

“Right on, boys. Neural handshake in five,” Tendo Choi’s voice informs them. Crosby looks over at him and Evgeni licks his lips; an old tick he hasn’t escaped.

“Don’t follow the RABIT,” Crosby says, and Evgeni doesn’t have time to snap at Crosby that he _knows_ , when he’s slammed with the establishing link. No training can ever prepare you for that.

_He’s ten and playing with Denis in the snow, Mama and Papa watching from the doorway --_

_He’s sixteen and his mother is weeping beside him; he’ll take the crown when his father draws his last breath--_

_He’s twenty and signs up for special ops training after he finishes his compulsory service; there’s blood everywhere, his gun hot in his hand--_

_He’s twenty-two and he’s ruled Canada since he was eighteen, when he tells his mother that he’s renouncing his crown and he’s going to serve the PPDC--_

“Fuck,” Evgeni gasps, his face drenched with sweat as his brain settles and he can feel Crosby everywhere.

“And the handshake is stable,” Tendo confirms.

Evgeni’s mind is racing and he tries to calm his breathing. Crosby looks as sick as Evgeni feels.

“ _King?!_ ” Evgeni hisses.

Crosby shushes him, looking wild. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“No, we talk now! You a fucking _king_ , and not tell me?”

“Not anymore, I abdicated. I’m just Private Crosby now,” Crosby says desperately.

“ _King_ ,” Evgeni moans. Of course his stupid fucking brain has to pick the one guy on the planet that has more baggage than he does.

“Don’t follow the RABIT,” Crosby repeats and braces himself as the Conn Pod drops to lock into Sierra Echo. They’re rolled through Scramble Alley to the edge as the doors open -- the sun is up and the seas are calm. Everyone wants to see what they can do.

“We’re gonna bring another team out to spar with you. Non-lethal force, so no guns or stabby weapons. Just work on your hand-to-hand coordination,” Tendo says.

“Okay,” Evgeni says, feeling Crosby get ready to move the left leg. It’s bizarre, having him in his head. Evgeni knows it’s just telepathy but it feels like so much more, like some sort of fucked up soul bond. They can’t talk over it, there’s just an inherent knowingness about everything.

“Are you gonna be weird about this?” Crosby asks as they’re wading through the Gulf of Alaska, waiting for the next Jaeger to be dropped to fight them.

“About what?” Evgeni asks, concentrating on getting used to the feel of the Jaeger linked to him, of so many things dependent on his mind.

“About the king thing,” Crosby huffs, and Evgeni rolls his eyes skyward. “I can feel you being a dick about it,” Crosby adds.

“Then why you ask, if know I’m gonna be a dick?” Evgeni asks.

“Because it’s not a big fucking deal! I could go on about all the shit you did, but I’m not!” Crosby retorts. Evgeni clenches his fists, counting to ten.

“Shut up, Sid. Concentrate for spar. We argue later,” Evgeni says. He doesn’t know why he calls Crosby that -- he doesn’t want to, but it gets on Crosby’s nerves when Evgeni keeps his distance. He knows Crosby wants them to be more familiar, given their role to each other now, and it’s counterintuitive to be so withdrawn during the drift. It’s just already kind of worrying how close he wants to get to Crosby, and not just in a copilot way. He shakes his head and tries to concentrate, pushing it all aside.

“Argue never,” Crosby mumbles. They watch as Chrome Brutus is dropped into the sea by the Jumphawks. Her last partnership finished when the cousins piloting her were killed fighting the kaiju before Reckoner, also in Hong Kong. It’s the first time Evgeni’s seeing Kane and Toews in the field together.

“How you think they fight?” Evgeni asks, watching as the Jaeger gets closer.

“I don’t know. I know Toews… know his fighting style and everything, but Kane is so different. It’s wild, trying to predict him. I don’t know how this is going to end,” Crosby says.

It’s boring without being able to use their sword or any of their guns, but they end up losing when Chrome Brutus does a weird sideswipe and cleans their legs up right from under them, holding them down in a chokehold until Crosby manages to tap out.

They get back and unplug, Evgeni rolling his shoulders and neck as they step out from the suits and head to their quarters to change back into their regular gear. Kane is crowing about his win in the mess when he and Toews arrive after Evgeni and Crosby, who are already seated with their meal for the evening. Evgeni’s grip on his fork becomes almost too tight and Crosby coughs uncomfortably.

“Cheater! Who dance in ocean?” Evgeni snaps as Kane and Toews sit down with them.

“It wasn’t a dance, and it was Tazer’s idea,” Kane says, jabbing Toews in the arm. Toews has gone an interesting shade of pink and tries to hide behind his newspaper. Crosby grabs it and yanks it away from him.

“I’ve trained with you for _years_ and you never once tried anything like that,” Crosby says. Evgeni likes the fact Crosby’s just as salty about losing as he is.

“Yeah well… Kaner was in my head and I dunno, it happened,” Toews says, grabbing his paper back. “So, I heard you found out about King Sidney,” he continues, before shaking out and disappearing behind the paper again. Crosby groans.

“How do you know?” Evgeni demands, and Toews bends a corner of the broadsheet down, shooting a look at Crosby.

“Jonny’s father was one of my father’s advisors, so we grew up together. He went to war and I was ruling, and when he heard I was joining the PPDC, he trained me personally. I did a two-year program instead of one year because I was behind,” Crosby says.

“Yeah. They wanted to give Sid a Lieutenant’s rank because of who he is, but he refused. _I want to earn it,_ he says. What a moron,” Toews says. Crosby pulls a face and Evgeni’s reminded yet again of exactly who Crosby is.

“How you defect from country? You have no brother to rule,” Evgeni splutters, reminded that matters are pressing if he’s letting a royal stomp around in his head.

“Canada allows male or female rulers, so my sister took over. She turned eighteen a few months before I decided to abdicate and she’s doing a great job. I didn’t have the head for sitting on a chair all day. And I didn’t defect, I’m not a _spy_ ,” Crosby says, pushing his mashed potatoes around his tray.

“She want be Queen? Or you tell her to?” he asks. Crosby’s cheeks are pink.

“I talked about it with her for a long time. She said I was a crappy king anyway,” he says. Evgeni wants to meet this girl just so he can give her a hug.

“For sure,” Evgeni says, chewing a wilted piece of carrot.

 

* * *

 

Evgeni spends over a year in Anchorage with Crosby. Crosby, who becomes Sidney and then _Sid,_ always coupled with an exasperated tone to ignore the fondness that spreads through Evgeni like ivy. The kaiju appear once a year, sometimes more, but there’s a lot of downtime spent frustratedly sparring and walking through Anchorage.

They spend a lot of time with Kane and Toews, who become Kaner and Tazer. Their partnership is hilarious because they’re so different and fight so much, but it’s obvious they care about each other and have created the kind of synchronicity that Evgeni is jealous of. They’ve all been told by the doctors that one of the hangovers of repeated neural handshakes is that your minds become connected permanently. After a few of them you start noticing things; start feeling ghost emotions, and being able to tell if your copilot needs a drink or is tired and hurting.

Marshal Pentecost wasn’t overly impressed with him and Sid, and they’ve been forced to spend long bursts in sims together and more time in Sierra Echo to get used to the drift and each other. It’s not all bad; it means they can actually focus on working out how to fight inside their Jaeger. Evgeni sees more of Sid’s past -- his degree in political science that came from years curled up reading military books, and his time in the army for a year when he turned eighteen. Evgeni’s memories get shoved into Sid in a similar fashion, except it’s all the tactical stuff Evgeni did in Afghanistan. There’s no threat of kaiju while they’re doing drills, and everything’s still so new and difficult to adjust to, so their drift is always only focussed on different maneuvers and ways to fight. It’s easier to control what the other person sees when the threat of death isn’t on your back.

Outside Sierra Echo, they don’t seem to have connected the way Kaner and Tazer have. It makes Evgeni feel weird; is it because they’re holding back, only concentrating on their tactics and the small parts of their history that come with it? If Marshal Pentecost’s constant comments about controlling memories and staying focussed on the task are anything to go by, Kaner and Tazer are the ones doing it all wrong.

For whatever reason, it’s working for them, though.

“Go to bed,” Kaner says one evening when they’re playing poker in Sid’s room.

“I’m fine,” Tazer grunts. Evgeni peers at him. Tazer looks fine, but Kaner elbows him until Tazer throws down his hand in disgust and leaves, muttering something as he goes.

“He’s got a bad headache,” Kaner explains, putting down a flush and laughing madly. Sid’s face droops; he’d bet his last packet of M&Ms.

“Do you think we’ll connect like that one day?” Sid asks him later that night, once Kaner leaves and it’s just them talking in Sid’s quarters. Evgeni’s stretched out on the floor, his fingers drumming a beat along his stomach.

They haven’t really acknowledged their drift outside the Jaeger, and even then it’s only ever brief glimpses of worry. Evgeni figures Sid’s been thinking about this for a while.

“Probably. Is normal, no?”

Sid’s up on the bed and rolls far enough to the side that he can peer down at Evgeni. The lamplight from above catches Sid’s eyes, highlighting the gold flecks and making heat pool low in Evgeni’s stomach.

“Are you scared that I’ll know things like that about you?”

“You know a lot. Bit late for scared,” he shrugs, even though the thought terrifies him.

“Yeah, but we know like… Jaeger stuff. I don’t know a lot about your personal history, it doesn’t come through while we’re thinking about the other stuff.”

This is obviously leading somewhere. “What you want to know?” Evgeni asks, and Sid frowns.

“I… don’t know. What do you want to tell me?”

Evgeni thinks for a bit. There’s a lot he wants to tell Sid, and a lot he doesn’t, but he knows Sid will find out anyway, especially if they keep doing handshakes. You can’t hide anything, every thought and feeling and emotion broadcasted for the other person to see. He doesn’t know how Aleksis and Sasha do it, being married and connecting like that -- how they did it for sixteen hours at one point. The thought is enough to drive him mad.

“Lots to tell. Lived a life before Sid came,” he settles on, and Sid honks that terrible giggle.

“When we first met, you said you didn’t want to know me. Why?” Sid asks when he calms down enough.

“Was mad, spent months looking for partner. Nobody ever good enough. Told Lemieux was going to Lima Shatterdome, try luck there.”

Sid’s eyes are wide.

“You were gonna _leave?_ ”

“Not belong in Pittsburgh, Sid, belong in Russia. Need to find copilot, take back to Russia, have Jaeger there. Protect rim,” Evgeni says.

“But you’re still in America,” Sid says slowly, and Evgeni sighs.

“Yes, still in America. Because of you,” he pokes his tongue out the side of his mouth, grinning as Sid reaches down to swat at him.

“I’m glad you stuck around, Geno. I didn’t think I’d ever find someone like you,” Sid says a few beats later, yawning loudly and stretching to crack his back. Evgeni has to close his eyes to stop the terrible, horrible wave of hope and affection rising inside him.

“Glad too, Sid.”

 

* * *

 

They get leave for two weeks every few months, rotating between the teams so if there is an attack while two of them are gone, the others can step in.

Sid goes first, dithering about whether they should tell Kaner and Tazer go instead. It takes Evgeni physically shoving him out the Shatterdome to get him to leave, making Tendo shut the doors from the LOCCENT as the military chopper waits for him.

“You big pain in my ass,” Evgeni says fondly, the feel of Sid’s body pressed against his in a warm hug enough to get by on.

A few hours later, it’s his turn to head back to Magnitogorsk. There he lets his mama fuss, lets Denis grumble about his brother glory hunting in America and lets his papa wipe at a tear or two with the kind of pride that never fails to make Evgeni feel better.

“It’s so boring, nothing happens. There’ve been no kaiju for us to kill,” Evgeni says over dinner that night, his mama cooking up a storm.

“Don’t tempt fate, Zhenechka,” Mama reprimands, rapping his knuckles with her spoon. Evgeni just rolls his eyes and turns back to his meal, jabbing at a hunk of potato. What’s the point of him being there, if not to kill kaiju?

 

*

 

He turns twenty-six while he’s there, which is nice -- Sid had realised Evgeni’s birthday was coming up, and sacrificed celebrating his own for Evgeni to be able to spend time with his family. It’s so sweet and he feels horribly guilty.

“Be happy, you asshole,” Sanja slurs at him, his arms around Masha and Oksana. Neither women are particularly happy about it, but they’re overjoyed at all of them being back in Russia and together for a celebration, so they let Sanja hang.

“I am happy,” Evgeni shoots back, downing another shot. He wonders what Sid’s doing in Ottawa. Whether he still has a security detail, whether he’s allowed to stay in the castle with his mother and sister, whether the staff still call him _Your Majesty_ or if they--

“How’s Sidney?” Oksana asks, as Evgeni slumps in the booth and knuckles his eyes. He feels tired down to his bones, headed past happy drunk and into maudlin.

“Sid’s good. We’re friends,” he says.

“You think?” she asks. He nods, picking at a loose thread in his jeans.

“It’s hard to tell sometimes. We aren’t as… you know,” he waves his hands around, “as the other pilots are.” He’s maybe a little grateful they’re not quite like that.

“I’m pretty sure you got into a fight with someone on base when Sidney was made fun of, just the other week. Sanja’s letters are very illuminating,” she says, laughing. Evgeni flushes.

 

He had merely _intimidated_ some technician who had been mouthing off about Rangers with his loser friends. Evgeni didn’t care what anyone said about him, but he’d been walking past when the techie was lighting up Sid. Apparently the other techs called him Princess Cindy, once they found out about Sid’s previous status and his pickiness. Evgeni saw red, put down his lunch tray and hauled the technician out of his seat, to shove him against the nearest wall.

“What you say about Sid?” he growled, pushing the technician’s face into the wall with an elbow digging into the base of his skull.

“N-nothing,” the technician gasped out.

“That’s what I thought,” Evgeni spat. He stepped back and the technician crumpled to the ground, clutching his neck. The entire mess was looking at them, silence ringing clear as he wobbled to his feet, helped out by his friends. Evgeni picked up his tray and headed to his table, where a wide-eyed Sid was waiting with Jack and Sanja.

“You’re going to get written up for that. Pentecost doesn’t like your temper,” Sanja said in Russian. Evgeni shrugged and started eating. He figured he had at least ten minutes before Pentecost found out.

“Ranger Malkin, please report to Marshal Pentecost’s office immediately. I repeat, Ranger Malkin, please report to Marshal Pentecost’s office immediately,” came booming across the PA barely a moment later. He had been yelled at about inappropriate aggression, written up and docked a month’s pay. He hadn’t heard anything bad about Sidney since, though, so the message had gone through as intended.

 

“I don’t like people saying bad things about anyone,” Evgeni tries to front. Oksana laughs again, louder this time.

“You don’t give a shit about most people, you mean,” she says.

It feels like something akin to relief when he flies back into Anchorage and Sid’s the first person he sees (after reporting in to Pentecost), tanned and settled. It’s like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

Their quarters are next to each other. Sid moved a few months back when two of the technicians were relocated to Osaka, and it means he can hear when Sid’s still awake at night, throwing a ball against the wall. It also means Sid can hear when he’s tossing and turning in bed. They’re spending increasing amounts of time together, and Evgeni’s finding it hard to ignore the beauty in the way Sid moves and thinks, the way Sid _looks_.

Evgeni drops his bags in his room and pauses -- sure enough, the ball is bouncing off the wall, and he smiles and heads back out, shutting his door as quietly as possible. He manages to open Sid’s door and sneak in without him realising, Sid’s back to it and his feet kicked up on his desk, tossing the tennis ball with practised ease against a soft dent in the wall.

“Boo,” Evgeni whispers against Sid’s ear, laughing hysterically as Sid yelps and almost falls off his chair.

“Geno, you fucking asshole!” he gasps, getting up and tackling Evgeni to the floor, pinching and slapping at him, his thighs tucked tightly against Evgeni’s hips.

“Okay, sorry-- Sid, _mercy!_ ” Evgeni chokes out, tears streaming from his eyes. Sid stops his attack but doesn’t move, arms crossed and glaring.

“I miss you, come say hi. How is break?” Evgeni asks, letting his hands rest on Sid’s hips. That smile is back, and Evgeni can’t help but smile in return.

“It was so good, seeing my family. I must’ve talked about you a lot in my letters, my mom and sister kept asking about you,” Sid says, flushing pink.

“Look good, Sid. Look relax, happy. Nice,” Evgeni nods. He reaches up to poke at the apple of his cheek, and Sid ducks his head.

“How about you? How was your birthday?” he asks.

“Was good, happy to see family and friends. Nice time. Will go different next year, so you can see Mama and Taylor,” Evgeni says, careful to avoid mention of Sid’s father.

“Oh, that reminds me, I got you something,” Sid says, getting up and hustling to his desk. Evgeni mourns the loss of the weight and warmth on him and sits up slowly, crossing his legs and resting his back against Sid’s bed.

“Didn’t have to,” Evgeni says, even though he’d forced a Penguins jersey on Sid before they left, customised with his name and birth year.

“I wanted to,” Sid says, and comes to sit next to Evgeni, pressing a small box into his hands.

“Happy late birthday,” Sid says, and ducks in to press a kiss to Evgeni’s cheek. Evgeni waits until Sid pulls back, his own cheeks bright red.

“That’s a thing that Russians do, right? They kiss?”

Evgeni coughs, trying to clear some air through his throat, which seems to have closed up at the feel of Sid’s lips pillowed against his skin.

“Everyone kiss, Sid. But thanks,” he says gruffly, opening the packaging carefully, not wanting to rip Sid’s painstaking work.

Inside the box is something silver, on a bed of cotton. He pulls it out -- it’s a pendant. On one side is the PPDC logo, and SIERRA ECHO is stamped big enough to read on the other.

“Oh, Sid,” he breathes. Sid goes even pinker.

“Do you like it?” he asks shyly.

“Of course. Put it on?” Evgeni asks, offering the box to Sid, who reaches inside and gets up on his knees. Evgeni turns around and lets Sid unclasp his necklace and slide the pendant on, the weight of it coming to settle against the one his parents gave him, and his dog tags.

“Thank you most, Sid. It’s best ever,” Evgeni says, hugging Sid to him. Sid stays pink, all through dinner in the mess where Evgeni shows off his present to Kaner and Tazer. It’s Evgeni’s favourite look on him.

 

* * *

 

Sierra Echo gets her first run in October, when Yamarashi hits Los Angeles. Kaner and Tazer are on leave, so Romeo Blue comes to help from the LA Shatterdome. Evgeni doesn’t know why he and Sid have to go -- LA has two Jaegers already, but Marshal Pentecost is eager to see what they can do.

The kaiju is a Category II, one of the biggest the PPDC have come against so far, and Evgeni can see Sid shaking as they get suited up and step into their Conn Pod.

“We can do this, Sid,” Evgeni offers up before Tendo establishes the neural handshake. They’re both apprehensive about their first kaiju and about the possibility of dying, and it blows the handshake right open to touch every part of their minds.

Evgeni winces his way through it -- this time it throws up more memories of Sid’s father, of Sid sitting by his death bed and crying. More comes of Geno’s past, too; the drug smuggling from Afghanistan and more violence, Geno firing his way through an insurgent’s stronghold, screaming for an air strike. Sid’s surprise and discomfort spreads through the drift. Undoubtedly they’ll have a very uncomfortable conversation after this.

They’re then dropped in the ocean by the Jumphawks, to make the trek across the coastline to Los Angeles.

 

It’s nothing like Evgeni’s expected, nothing the sims could prepare him for.

It takes both them and Romeo Blue two hours to kill Yamarashi, and even then the toll is large -- hundreds dead in the bay, an arm ripped from Sierra Echo and they’re leaking coolant as well. Evgeni’s side is aching from where he was almost thrown from his position. Being locked in was the only thing that saved him. Romeo isn’t in much better shape, huge scratches along her hull and one of her legs damaged.

It feels like the adrenaline is never going to die down, racing through his veins and making everything bright and sharp, his chest heaving in his suit. The way he’s connected to the Jaeger is so beautiful, and he can understand how people could get addicted to this life; the intimacy and the violence all wrapped up in one.

They head back to Anchorage in silence, letting the techs undrill them from their suits as Marshal Pentecost stands nearby and watches. He’s happy with another kaiju dispatched but unhappy with the drift -- too unstable, with too many memories flooding through and distracting them. Everything’s monitored from the LOCCENT.

“You’ll be going through more training after this. You need to be more disciplined about reining in your memory sharing. The drift is for combat. We need you combat ready,” he says before dismissing them. Evgeni’s head feels sore and empty without Sid taking up the left hemisphere, controlling the movements and half the battle plans. Sid’s listing a little to the right, which makes him think Sid’s feeling the same.

Marshal Pentecost wants a debrief later that night but Evgeni asks to reschedule, claiming a need for a shower, food and at least ten hours solid of sleep to recover. His head is starting to pound from being in a handshake with Sid for so long, and his legs are quivering as he comes down from the rush.

They shower quickly and Evgeni pulls on his most worn PPDC sweatpants and an old army hoodie, shuffling into the mess for more chow. He sits with Sid as they shovel their food down, before bussing their trays and heading back to their quarters. Evgeni has Sid tucked under his arm; partly to help keep him upright, and partly because it feels so good to touch him. He figures he can be a little selfish right now.

“Come to mine?” Sid asks. Evgeni doesn’t even reply, just lets Sid steer them to his quarters. Evgeni shucks off his shoes at the door and crawls under the sheets, moving close enough to the wall that there’s enough room. Sid doesn’t use it, instead plastering himself to Evgeni’s back and reaching to shut off the lamp above the bed.

His nose is cool pressed to Evgeni’s nape, but his body is warm along his back and their legs tangle together. It feels so close to perfection that he can’t even fight long enough to enjoy it before he falls asleep.

 

He wakes up the next morning to find they’ve switched positions in the night; Sid’s bundled into his arms now, pressed together so tightly there’s no room between. He smells like sweat and coconut body wash, and Evgeni nuzzles against his hairline, smiling as he feels Sidney sigh happily against his collarbone.

“Sid, wake up. 8:30,” Evgeni croaks, his throat sore. They’ve slept through breakfast but Evgeni has connections in the kitchen, so they’ll still be able to get something if they head there in the next half-hour. Sid groans and tries to burrow closer.

“Want food, Sid? We need to eat,” Evgeni coaxes. Sid sighs and leans back enough for Evgeni to see him wiping his eyes, his hair wild from sleep.

“Morning, G,” Sid yawns, squeezing his eyes shut once more, before sitting up and stretching.

“Morning, Sid.”

Breakfast consists of eggs and what tastes like real bacon, and Kaner and Tazer arrive halfway through. Kaner’s pissed.

“First kaiju in a fucking _year_ and I was in Buffalo,” he whines, jostling Evgeni as he sits down.

“Bad place to be,” Evgeni chirps, darting a look at Sid. Sid’s frowning at his food, and Evgeni sighs -- he’d hoped they’d ignore the conversation about the memories, but apparently not.

 

The debrief goes fast enough. Evgeni sits back and lets Sid take point from their end, the Gage brothers calling in on a comm link. Marshal Pentecost seems satisfied and tells them to submit their reports later that day before dismissing them. Sid tugs on Evgeni’s shirt and he follows, opening his door and stepping aside.

“So,” Sid says.

“Can not talk about?” Evgeni tries.

“I saw you doing drugs, Geno. That’s a huge thing to not talk about,” Sid snaps.

“Not me, my brother. In Afghanistan, lots of kush. Bored, no action for weeks, no commander. Start up… uhm, sell back home.”

“So you were a drug smuggler?”

“For little bit, left for Jaeger program. Not big deal, just weed. Not heroin.” He’d known guys who had smuggled heroin out. That was a whole other level of fucking insane.

“Oh my god,” Sid says, sitting down heavily on the edge of Evgeni’s cot.

“You say before not matter, know I’m soldier. Kill people, do bad things. Why problems now?” Evgeni asks, sitting down next to him.

“It-- it’s a lot. It doesn’t… bother me, in the overall picture. Just a little to get used to,” Sid says, digging the toe of his boot into the concrete.

“I did lot in army, before we meet. Told you, lived life before Ranger. Did bad things, did good things, too. Sometimes you see bad things, upset you.”

Sid fumbles for his hand and wraps his fingers around Evgeni’s wrist, still staring down at the floor.

“How about your dad? I see--” Evgeni starts, and Sid nods.

“Yeah. It was pretty bad at the end. We knew it was coming but it still sucked,” Sid sighs. Evgeni rubs his shoulder, wanting to get that pinched look off his face, smiling as Sid falls against him.

“I learned pretty quickly that life is what you make it, y’know? It’s yours to control, to make into something special. I just wanted the chance to make a difference,” Sid says into Evgeni’s neck. Evgeni tightens his grip around Sid’s shoulders.

“I know. We make a difference. Save one person, make big difference.”

Sid exhales and doesn’t say anything.

 

* * *

 

It’s the week before Christmas, and it’s between two years since their last kaiju.

Chrome sees action before them -- the drift leaving its mark on the pilots in obvious ways. Kaner and Tazer are even more eerily in sync now, so entwined in each other Evgeni isn’t sure where one begins and the other ends. He doesn’t think they know, either. Kaner’s smiles and chirps are still as easy to come by, and Tazer’s stopped frowning so much, which is a relief.

He and Sid are in a weird sort of stasis, constantly doing sims and keeping their fighting skills as honed as they can, focussing hard on blocking each other out when they train in the drift to avoid more shit spilling over. It’s hard, having one purpose and trying to keep sharp over such long stretches of time. Humanity is resilient, though, spending the time rebuilding what the kaiju have destroyed. Evgeni spends his time silently hoping they never come again.

His feelings for Sid haven’t abated, but grown stronger and more steadfast. He’s had prime seats to see Sid blossom from under the shadow of his old life and the strain it left on his shoulders. He’s so responsible and dedicated to the cause, willing to help anyone and everyone however he can. The younger Rangers look up to him, even with only one kill under his belt. He’s somewhat predictable in a way Kaner isn’t, less cool than Tazer, less reckless and overemotional than Evgeni. He’s specific and perfect, and Evgeni finds something new to adore every day.

Pentecost sends them on a tour of the Shatterdomes when the PPDC establishes a resource-sharing scheme. They spend a few months in Lima, and most of 2018 in Sydney. Sierra Echo was surplus to Anchorage’s requirements, so she was put out of major action while her Rangers toured around the world. Rangers without their Jaeger, what a joke. Evgeni was just thankful Pentecost didn’t want to let the Jaeger go, making _them_ surplus to requirements. He knows they’d just be sent to another Shatterdome, but he finds he’s liking Anchorage.

The only worrying thing is, if they can’t pilot then they can’t drift, and drifts are easiest to keep stable when they’re not allowed to stagnate. It’s not kosher to get inside another person’s Jaeger for a spin, although sending them both away for a year and not expecting them to need some practise is ridiculous. On the other hand, not having Sid stomping around in his head and finding out certain _things_ is so appealing to Evgeni right now. The guilt sits in a malaise that weighs him down, rearing its head whenever Sid stares up longingly at the Jaegers and wonders aloud how Sierra Echo is doing without them.

Evgeni could easily stay in Australia, and he thinks Sid feels the same, but only if they had Sierra Echo with them. The people are relaxed and rough around the edges, but kind and eager. Some of the kids ask obnoxious things about his accent, not used to Russians this far south, but Sid’s always smiling, always calm. General Cahill thanks them for staying an extra week, then an extra month, on and on. As if it were a hard idea to turn down the beaches and the quay.

They meet the Hansens soon after arriving; the stalwart Herc, strong and proud, and his brother Scott -- both men scarred from the war, from the kaiju and from their own battles. Scott’s mouthy and Evgeni likes putting him down on the sparring mats, watching his face and neck go bright red with rage as he storms off, tight and withdrawn.

“You really shouldn’t tease him like that,” Sid mutters the nights they spend in one or the other’s quarters, winding down from the day and wondering where the next kaiju will appear.

“I’m not tease, I’m _teach_ ,” Evgeni corrects, nudging his arm. He ignores the clench of fear in his stomach whenever Sid brings up the kaiju, brings up their next deployment. He’s praying they won’t ever get deployed again; or at least not until he can control his feelings. It took him so long to find Sid, and he doesn’t want to lose him. Doesn’t want to jeopardise what they have because the curve of Sid’s neck, the sweep of his eyelashes and the press of his lips are too enticing.

“You’re the last person who needs to be teaching anyone about temper control,” Sid snorts. Evgeni clucks his teeth in mock outrage, launching on Sid with a tickle barrage. Sid’s begging by the time Evgeni’s done with him. It hits him with a wave of longing so strong, how he wants Sid stretched out and begging but for something else entirely.

He swallows carefully and tucks that away, moving back to lean against the wall and shut his eyes, measuring his breathing until his heartbeat is under control. Being in love is hard.

 

* * *

 

They visit Vladivostok on their swing back north, and it’s so nice to see Oksana and the Kaidonovskys again. He’d introduced them to Sid before abandoning him to his conversation with General Klitschko, following the three of them back to their quarters.

“So, you’re still working with Crosby,” Aleksis says, as he lounges on his bed next to Sasha. Oksana settles on a chair, her legs crossed underneath her.

“We’re copilots, of course I am,” Evgeni says, confused.

“Don’t be an ass, Aleksis,” Sasha chides. Aleksis grins.

“He’s like a puppy, I can’t help it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Evgeni grouses.

Oksana takes pity, for once in Evgeni’s life. “They’re alluding to the fact you’re completely gone over your Canadian, and he’s the only one who doesn’t seem to realise it. Either that or you finally told him and you’re both fantastic actors. I’m leaning towards the former.”

Evgeni goes bright pink.

“He’s-- we’re not-- he’s my _copilot!_ How can I have thoughts like that about him?” Evgeni says. The Kaidonovskys laugh.

“We’re married, stupid. It’s not always random pairings or relatives,” Sasha says.

“I’m well aware,” Evgeni says through gritted teeth. Aleksis sighs and reclines further, knocking Oksana with his boot.

“I don’t know how you’ve kept it from him, especially if you drifted,” she says.

“It wasn’t a big thing then. He was just… interesting. It’s been almost two years since we deployed. We focus on tactics and military stuff when we train now, it’s easier with no danger, when it’s just drills. I’m more worried about the next kaiju. It’ll be all over then,” he says.

“Oh, Zhenya,” Oksana sighs, and even Aleksis looks uncomfortable.

“You need to tell him. You can’t spring something like that on him in the drift. It’ll knock him off his game, make it harder to concentrate with your shit banging around his brain,” Sasha says.

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t realise how fucking hard I’m going to make it when we _do_ drift? I’m the one who has to live with this every day,” Evgeni exclaims.

“You have two options. Tell him and deal with the consequences, or get it under control yourself.” Oksana says.

No fucking shit.

He won’t have the chance to see his parents, they’re too far east for that. Their trip through Russia had been purely because Lemieux felt bad for keeping Evgeni in America, and convinced Marshal Pentecost to allow the detour.

Evgeni spends the rest of the week ignoring the looks from the Kaidanovskys and Oksana while he spars and goes through sims, walking the floors of the Shatterdome and lost in his head. Sid’s doesn’t say much at meals and gives him space. Evgeni isn’t sure what’s worse -- the fact Sid thinks he needs it, or that Sid’s giving it to him. It just twists him up inside all the more, makes everything so much harder.

When they’re leaving to get into the Jumphawk, Oksana hugs him tightly and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Tell the boy. He’s been edging around you this whole time. He’s worried about you, and you’re making it worse,” she says. Evgeni pulls his jacket tighter around him and pretends to heed her advice, following Sid out Scramble Alley -- universal at any Shatterdome -- and into their ride. Sid’s quiet, his thigh pressed hard and warm against Evgeni’s.

 

* * *

 

When they finally finish their tour it’s late October in 2019, and the weather is frigid. Evgeni’s just glad he stole one of Aleksis’ jackets when they were in Vladivostok, with the fur lined hood and thick insulation in the body and arms. They sling their bags over their shoulders and head into their Shatterdome, rain and wind howling around them. Sid’s cheeks and nose are bright pink, and Evgeni probably looks the same. It’s beyond endearing. He clamps down on it, trying to stop the flare inside his chest before it starts; he’s always too late.

Kaner and Tazer are playing basketball nearby; Kaner’s losing, by the looks of it, but he gives up caring and launches himself on Evgeni.

“Geno, Sid! You’re back!” Kaner exclaims. Evgeni smiles, hugging him back.

“Yes, we back. Spent too much time away, happy to be here,” he says, and finds it’s the truth.

Sid’s talking quietly to Tazer, who shoots a look over and raises a hand to wave at him. Evgeni watches as Tazer puts a hand on Sid’s shoulder and leads him away.

“So, you spent over a year touring them with Sid. How’d it go?” Kaner asks as they head toward the mess. Evgeni’s starving and loads up his tray eagerly.

“Was okay. Same in every city, just different accent. Different Jaegers.”

He’d seen Diablo Intercept and Matador Fury in Lima, both impressive and their Jaeger teams insane -- a father daughter duo for Diablo, and two brothers from Spain for Matador. The Australian Jaegers were no less impressive, the same with Russia. They were a brotherhood of soldiers, the kind Evgeni thought he’d left behind in Afghanistan.

“What’s going on with Sid? Things seem strained,” Kaner says slowly, playing with the salt and pepper shakers while Evgeni shovels down the rice and vegetables, a greasy steak glistening at him from his plate.

“Don’t know what you mean,” Evgeni grunts, hacking at his steak and shoving as much in his mouth as possible. Kaner rolls his eyes.

“Don’t bullshit me, G. I’ve seen the way you look at him. It’s how Tazer used to look at me, until we drifted against the kaiju and I found out.”

Evgeni prides himself on not choking to death on his food, swallowing and glaring at Kaner.

“I’m try to fix before drift again, cannot--”

“Don’t be a dumbass, G. Sid totally feels the same. It’s so fucking obvious, you’re an idiot.”

“But he a _king_.” Evgeni scrubs a hand through his hair. It’s getting long, curling around his neck and ears, wild and thick. Haircuts just don’t really seem like a priority these days.

Before Kaner can say anything, Sid appears at the edge of the table with Tazer, looking a little less pinched around the edges.

“G, you done?” he says.

“Yes. You eat?” Evgeni asks. Sid purses his lips and stares Evgeni down until he sighs, standing and glaring at Kaner as they leave. Kaner just throws up his hands again.

Sid’s tired, and Evgeni can see it in the way he’s slow to toe off his boots at Evgeni’s door, and he looks at Evgeni’s bed with the kind of naked longing Evgeni’s well acquainted with.

“Come, sleep. We do things tomorrow,” Evgeni says, flopping into the cot and bunching against the wall. It’s not built for two people -- it’s amazing one of them hasn’t fallen off as many times as they’ve done this -- but Sid climbs in and moves in close to Evgeni.

Being starved for human contact is a big thing in the military. He’s seen countless guys, and been on both the receiving and requesting end more times than he can count, hunched under Humvees and in sleep graves two or three deep, huddled together for warmth and comfort.

It’s no less the truth in the PPDC. Sparring is fleeting and they were told over and over during Ranger training that having physical intimacy helped when fostering drift compatibility, keeping it healthy and nurtured. There were always a few assholes who made derogatory comments about how gay it all was, but they were usually the first to come crawling to their buddies, tails tucked between their legs and asking for contact.

It’s been over five months since he’s had sex, which was on his last swing back home, and he doesn’t know how long it’s been for Sid. He should nudge Sid back into his boots and send him to his quarters, but Sid’s rolled up against him, pressed so tightly to his front that he can feel their breathing sync up. He knows he’s setting himself up for trouble, but at the same time he can’t not because of the drift. It would cause problems with Sid, too, and he really likes what they’ve got together. He missed the intimacy when they toured. They shared quarters and were provided with bunk beds that were too tiny for the both of them to fit in Australia, so the bed sharing -- well, it’s been a while.

“We’re okay, right G?” Sid says sleepily as Evgeni slides a thigh between Sid’s. He turns a little so he can press his face against the pillow and breathe in Sid’s shampoo, feeling Sid’s hair tickling against his face.

“Of course,” Evgeni says, a little thrown. Sid just lets out a sigh and burrows closer, if it’s even possible, wrapping an arm around Evgeni’s waist and pushing his face against Evgeni’s collarbone. It’s the closest they’ve been in months, and Evgeni aches. 

 

*

 

So, it’s a week before Christmas and Sid’s been clingy ever since they finished their tour. He shadows Evgeni everywhere, and hasn’t slept alone in his bed since. Evgeni’s wracking his brain, trying to figure out why -- why all of a sudden is Sid acting like Evgeni’s going to leave, or what changed while Evgeni wasn’t looking?

They’re asleep, Evgeni on his back and Sid curled up against him, when the kaiju alarms blare. They’re wired into the quarters of each Ranger, and when Pentecost decides which team will take on the kaiju, he instructs Tendo on who to tell.

Evgeni wakes up to the sound of the alarm wailing, Sid jerking awake against him, his eyes squinting as the lights come flooding on.

“Rise and shine, Geno! Time to go hunting!” Tendo’s voice comes across the PA, and Evgeni’s stomach drops through his body as Sid scrambles out of bed. He ducks to grab his shirt and socks, hopping toward his boots on one foot. His hair is everywhere and Evgeni watches him rush for the door.

“Geno, c’mon! It’s our turn!” he yells over his shoulder, shoving Evgeni’s door open and streaking off down the corridor. Evgeni’s never wanted to be dead more in his life than he does right now.

 

By the time he gets to his suit, Sid’s already drilled in and shifting from foot to foot. All excitement he’d had was lost somewhere between Evgeni’s quarters and here. He’s almost as white as his armour.

“Geno…” he says, watching Evgeni step into his suit, silent as he’s fastened in. They’re handed their helmets and pull them on, waiting for the yellow to drain and the vital stats to come up on the visor.

“Let’s go,” Evgeni says, and follows Sid into their Conn Pod. They fasten in and Evgeni sends up a prayer, trying to collect every scrap of affection he has for Sid and shove it somewhere deep inside his body, somewhere far from the drift. Now he’s thinking about it directly, he knows it’ll be worse. He tries to think about something else -- _anything else_.

“Geno, I--” Sid starts, his eyes darting around, but Evgeni’s going with the Hail Mary.

“Please don’t hate me,” Evgeni begs.

“What?”

“Please don’t leave me,” he continues. Sid’s jaw drops, confusion writ on his face. He opens his mouth, probably to ask what the fuck Evgeni’s on about, when Tendo cuts him off.

“Neural handshake in 3, 2, 1,” Tendo announces, and Evgeni’s hit with it, spinning down the drift and clenching his jaw as his eyes fall shut against the memories.

_He’s twelve when he kisses Masha, but he doesn’t like it, says sorry, runs away--_

_He’s fifteen when he kisses Marc, he likes it, likes it more than he should--_

_He’s sixteen when he’s pressed against a dirty bathroom wall and fucked by the goalie on his high school hockey team, breathing hotly against the back of his neck--_

_He’s twenty when Marc leaves him, he can’t handle the attention on the royals--_

_He’s twenty six and he looks at Sid over breakfast, that smile sending a curl of warmth through his gut--_

_He’s twenty five and he looks at Geno every morning, waking up and falling asleep to his face--_

Evgeni’s gasping, his head and body aching with the onslaught, until Tendo tells them the handshake is stable, and “Happy hunting, boys.”

Sid’s just as bad, looking seasick.

“I--” Sid starts, but he’s at a loss for words, and they turn to watch Sierra being wheeled through Scramble Alley towards the doors.

“You’re going to Manila with Chrome Brutus and you’re meeting up with Striker Eureka. The kaiju is a category three, codename MN-19.”

“Need three of us?” Evgeni asks.

Pentecost grunts, “You and Striker are taking point, Chrome’s just there for back up.”

Evgeni focuses on controlling his side of Sierra, her legs cutting through the waves as they head towards Manila.

“There’s Kaner and Tazer,” Sid says, as the other Jaeger comes up on their left. Its hand waves and Evgeni snorts.

“Kaner side,” he says and Sid nods.

“For sure. I doubt Tazer would wave at us.”

 

They say nothing until they arrive in Manila, watching MN-19 wreak havoc on the coast, and Striker Eureka’s already there, battling against it. It’s raining heavily and their vision is restricted, but lightning flashes often enough for them to see what they need.

They join the fight and Chrome Brutus pitches in as well, ducking and weaving to jab and grapple when Striker goes down, a huge scratch across the chest plate fritzing in the downpour, its leg buckling after the kaiju falls on it during a tussle.

“Sid, need--” Evgeni starts, throwing his shoulder into a bump that sends the kaiju staggering into Chrome Brutus, who wraps its arms around its waist and delivers a bodyslam. Chrome starts punching the kaiju from behind. It’s pulling back to load its arm cannon when the kaiju rears upwards and sends it flying, crashing into Striker Eureka.

“I got it,” Sid says, reading the play over the drift, and Evgeni engages their sword, holding his arm steady while Sid gets his side ready for the crash that comes when the kaiju barges into them, roaring in their face.

“Now!” Sid yells and Evgeni heaves into it, swinging his arm around with the sword and slicing straight through the hide, burying it deep and pulling up with all his might.

The kaiju lets out a deafening scream and falls backwards, the corrosive acid already hard at work on their sword and parts of their armour. Chrome Brutus is back on her feet, though, and sprays the cancelling agent all over them.

“Kaiju down,” Sid tells their team back in the LOCCENT.

Tendo whoops across the connection. “Head back home boys, job well done!”

Evgeni’s shaking from the adrenaline as they turn to follow Chrome. Tendo tells them to wait, Jumphawks headed up from Sydney to connect to them and fly them back to Anchorage. The kaiju is left floating a few miles off the Manila coastline for the Philippine government to deal with. That’s not their problem.

“Geno,” Sid says as the Shatterdome comes into view.

“Please, don’t,” Evgeni sighs. He’s so fucking tired, exhausted from the battle and from probably losing Sid forever. He’ll have to go to Vladivostok, find some shitty Ranger who won’t drift half as well with him as Sid does. He’s starting to like it in America.

“No, you don’t understand--” Sid says, and okay, maybe they are doing this now.

“Understand what? I’m sorry, Sid. I can’t help, try hard, not make a problem, okay?”

Sid starts swearing, his cheeks gone bright pink with the anger coursing through the drift. “You dumbass! You’re so fucking swept up in your guilt that you can’t see what’s right in fucking front of you!” Sid yells at him. They’re at the entrance of the Shatterdome and the Jumphawks heave them up and into Scramble Alley.

“What--”

Sid brings together all the warmth and happiness Evgeni feels every time he looks at Sid, and takes Evgeni into his head and _shows_ him. Sid thrusts out his own emotions, his _own_ warmth and happiness; shows him that all of the emotions batting between them wasn’t just _Evgeni’s_.

Half of it was Sid’s.

Sid’s out of his side and storming off back into the LOCCENT by the time Evgeni’s recovered enough to move, and he ignores Evgeni as they’re being removed from their armour.

“Sid--” he starts, but Sid takes off and Evgeni’s left to jog after him. He gets held up by Kaner and Tazer, both humming with their win.

“Guys, not now,” Evgeni begs, watching Sid disappear into his quarters, slamming the door behind him.

“What do you mean, not now? We just killed a kaiju!” Tazer exclaims. Kaner’s looking at Evgeni’s face, and looks over his shoulder to Sid’s closed quarters.

“He found out, didn’t he?” Kaner asks. Tazer blinks, confused.

“Yes. I fucked up, have to fix,” Evgeni says. He pushes between them and heads to Sid’s quarters. When he opens the door, Sid’s sitting on his cot, legs dangling over the edge.

“Sid,” Evgeni says. Sid looks up, his face unreadable.

“Shut the door and come sit down,” Sid says. Evgeni does as he’s told, sinking down on the bed to face Sid, his legs tucked underneath him.

“I don’t understand. Why me? Why you like me? I’m not…”

“Not what?” Sid asks, looking pissed.

“Not good enough. Just a soldier. Not enough for a king,” Evgeni says. Sid looks an inch from punching him.

“For Christ’s sake, Geno, I’m not a king anymore! I’m just a _guy_. And how dare you say you’re not enough?” Sid thumps him on the arm and Evgeni winces, rubbing at it.

“I fucking hate it when you get like this, acting like nothing you can say or do is good enough. You are enough for anyone, Geno, you’re more than enough. I’m the one who should be apologising or whatever, for being not enough for you.”

Evgeni mouths falls open. “You crazy. Took too many hit from kaiju,” he says, shaking his head. Sid’s lips tighten.

“Geno, I’m going to say this to you every day for the rest of our lives together. You are a good man. _You are_. You’re sweet and passionate and you are the best thing in my life, have been for a long fucking time. I gave up everything, and I came here and I found you, and it was like… I don’t even know. Being around you gave me a purpose. You helped me, you centered me and you made me into the kind of guy I always wanted to be. More than a king. I’m _your_ copilot, that’s all I am. So don’t for a second say you’re not enough, because you _are_. I need to be thanking you, for what you’ve done for me.”

Sid’s chest is heaving a little from the exertion, his face pink and his hazel eyes blazing. Evgeni honestly didn’t think he could get any lighter, feel any better than he did that morning not long ago, waking up to Sid in his arms and being able to pretend for a second it was real.

“Oh, Sid,” he says. Sid huffs but Evgeni reels him in and kisses him, slow and easy and exactly how he wants. Sid just moans and fists his hand in Evgeni’s shirt. His fingers tangle up with the pendants, dogtags against the present from Sid and from his parents -- the old mixing with the new.

“C’mon Geno. I want you, just you, fuck,” Sid mumbles against his mouth, not stopping for a second. That Evgeni can do. He rolls them over, spreading Sid on top of him and gets a grind going, their cocks chafing inside their fatigues as they strip off their shirts.

“Off, off,” Sid chants, reaching between them as Evgeni presses kisses against his jawline, giggling when Evgeni hits a sensitive spot.

“Sid ticklish?” Evgeni grins.

Sid whacks his arm and sits back on his haunches, his fly open and his pants tenting.

“Off,” he groans and Evgeni smirks and kicks down his pants, letting Sid pull them off his ankles. Sid’s fingers reach up and roll down his briefs, licking his lips as he stands up and pulls off his own pants. He stays there, lets Evgeni look his fill before Evgeni’s brain snaps back online long enough to reach for him, pulling him back down.

“Need, Sid,” Evgeni pants and Sid nods, reaching in his bedside draw for a small tube of lubricant.

“Just hands, for now-- we have to debrief with Pentecost soon,” Sid says and Evgeni’s eyes roll back in his head as Sid slicks up his palm and wraps it around both of them. His fingers move up and down Evgeni’s shaft, teasing under the head as he times it with his thrusts, kissing all over his neck and jaw. It’s going to leave marks, the kind that can’t be explained away, but Evgeni can’t find it in himself to care.

“Please,” Evgeni begs, and Sid groans -- he’s dropped into Russian and he can’t think of English, his world only consisting of Sid and the basest of instincts. It’s overwhelming and Evgeni can’t help but move his hips, reacting to Sid’s talented fingers and mouth before he’s digging his fingers into Sid’s back. He scrapes them down the solid muscles as he comes, Sid’s name spilling messily from him. Sid follows him over, his chest heaving, adding to the mess.

“Jesus fuck,” Sid pants, flopping down half on Evgeni. Evgeni nods, pressing a kiss to Sid’s temple.

“Very good,” he agrees, and Sid laughs weakly.

“I always wondered what it’d be like when we had sex. Didn’t ever think it’d be that amazing,” he sighs and Evgeni groans, squeezing his eyes closed.

“Stop it, can’t come again,” Evgeni says.

Sid licks his lips and pushes up to kiss him, his hand wrapping around Evgeni’s neck to hold him close.

 

* * *

 

The next afternoon, Marshal Pentecost calls them into his office. Evgeni’s nervous -- the kind of fraternising they’re doing is to be expected between unmarried or unrelated copilots, but he doesn’t want Pentecost getting involved either way.

They’re ushered in by his secretary and sit down in front of his desk after saluting him, watching him pace behind his desk until he sits as well.

“I received some news from the PPDC yesterday,” Marshal Pentecost begins. Sid’s shifting in his seat next to Evgeni, and Evgeni can feel the discomfort sitting in his chest as if it were his own. Sid’s worried too -- worried Pentecost knows about them and what will happen.

“I don’t know whether you know, but my copilot died of radiation poisoning. It’s partly why I retired. That was almost a year ago. There’s been two more cases of radiation poisoning brought to the PPDC,” Marshal Pentecost continues. The discomfort morphs into dread as Evgeni starts to think--

“Are we… do we…” Sid tries, unable to finish. Marshal Pentecost looks grave.

“We don’t know. That’s why I called you in. Crosby, you and Malkin will be flying back to Pittsburgh tonight for extensive testing at the First Facility and the various medical centers in the city. Once you’re done, Kane and Toews will swap out for you. The engineers at the PPDC are already designing the next Jaegers, now that the flaws have been picked up to prevent the risk of more Rangers falling ill.”

“Is terminal?” Evgeni asks. He tries to steady his breathing, tries to control his knee from jiggling. He’s panicking and he knows it, and by the look on Sid’s face, he knows it too.

“There is no cure for radiation poisoning, no. Just pain management. The Rangers who fell ill piloted Mark-I Jaegers, like the Kaidonovskys. Their Jaeger is undergoing re-engineering and their tests came back clean.”

Evgeni sags in his seat. At least they’re safe.

“How long is this going to take?” Sid asks.

“A week, give or take. They’ve been ordered to put a rush on results, so it’ll take a few days of testing and then a few days to get the results.”

They’re dismissed not long after, and Sid tugs on his wrist to pull Evgeni out the office. He follows in a daze, before one of Pentecost’s secretaries tells them they can make a few calls back home if they have to.

“Are you-- I’m going to, uh, call my mom and Taylor,” Sid says. Evgeni nods and sits down outside the office they were shown to. Sid bites his lip and looks around, before taking Evgeni’s wrist again. He turns Evgeni’s hand palm up and presses a kiss to the middle of it.

“We’re going to be fine, Geno. I promise.”

“How can promise that?” Evgeni asks, and Sid leans in close and kisses him.

“Because I’m Sid, and you’re Geno, and we’re not going to die of some stupid fucking illness."

 

*

 

They arrive in Pittsburgh in the early hours of the following morning, staggering off the Jumphawk and into a waiting car. They’re checked into a fancy hotel and Evgeni just follows Sid, the world hazy and bright from a lack of sleep and jetlag. They’ve been given one room and a huge bed, which is nice. Evgeni just strips to his boxers and crawls in as Sid starts fussing with their gear, asleep before his head hits the pillow.

The testing itself is over quick enough -- a full day when they arrive, and then a half-day after that. It’s all manner of prodding and poking, taking enough blood to drain a horse and testing on all levels; lung capacity, stamina, muscle density, x-rays and MRIs, on and on.

Sid’s quiet the second day, and Evgeni realises it’s because now they have to wait.

“Will be okay, Sid,” he says as Sid brushes his teeth that night. The news is on silent, the television bathing the room in a blueish hue. Evgeni’s already in bed, his arm aching from all the needles, and Sid spits and rinses, wandering into the room and sighing heavily.

“What if we’re sick, Geno? What if you’re sick, or I’m sick, and the other person is okay?” Sid asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I don’t think I can do this without you. How am I supposed to do this without you?”

Jesus. Evgeni crawls to him and wraps his arms around Sid’s shoulders, dropping a sloppy kiss on the curve of his neck.

“If we sick, then we sick together. If one sick but one okay, then we… we figure out what happen next. We team, Sid. Team always.”

Sid crumples in his arms and Evgeni just hangs on until Sid has the strength to move back and get into bed.

 

*

 

They’re flown back to Anchorage at Marshal Pentecost’s request, so that the doctors can begin testing Kaner and Tazer, but they don’t see the other Rangers when they land.

“They left an hour ago. The PPDC got another positive, so they’re ramping up the turnarounds to get all the teams done. I heard they’ve cut training in half, and got rid of the two-year program entirely,” Sanja says to them when they see him in Scramble Alley. He’s working on Sierra Echo, sliding down from where he was suspended hundreds of feet in the air.

“You’re going to die in battle, or you’re going to die when you’re old and blind and surrounded by family. You’re not going to die this way,” Sanja says, yanking him into a tight hug.

Evgeni just holds on, trying to steady himself. Sid’s nearby, and takes Evgeni’s hand when he can let go of Sanja and step back.

“C’mon, let’s go to our quarters,” Sid says quietly. Evgeni nods, following him into the bowels of the Shatterdome.

 

Evgeni’s yawning and stretching two days later, Sid snuffling into his pillow beside him, when there’s a knock on his door.

“Who is it?” he calls, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Sid yawns and snuggles closer to Evgeni, burrowing under his arm until Evgeni snorts and slings it over him. He’s such a touch slut.

“It’s Marshal Pentecost. We have your results.”

Evgeni stiffens, feeling like he’s been plunged into a bath of ice water. Sid doesn’t move. Evgeni sits up and gets out of bed, stumbling over Sid’s discarded pile of clothes and opening the door.

“We didn’t open them, they were delivered on the mail drop this morning. Come see me when you’ve read them,” Marshal Pentecost says, handing him two plain white envelopes. He nods and the Marshal leaves, and he shuts the door and leans against it. Their names and dog tag numbers are stamped in the middle, with the PPDC logo in the top left-hand corner.

He manages to make it back to the cot and crawls back in, placing Sid’s envelope by his face. Sid’s hazel eyes are unreadable.

“We open together,” Evgeni says. His hands are shaking. Sid sits up and moves next to Evgeni so they’re together, touching from their shoulders to their knees. Sid pulls the blankets around him, nodding. His hands are shaking, too.

They slide their fingers under the backing and pull the pages out, still folded.

“Ready?” Evgeni asks. Sid fumbles for his hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing.

“We’re a team, until the end,” he rasps, and Evgeni nods.

“Yes. Team, until the end.”

They open the letters and begin to read.

**Author's Note:**

> Also to be said, Canada is part of the Commonwealth and has no independent monarch, but in this they have their own royals. I also live in a Commonwealth country so I'm well aware who our dear Queenie is. 
> 
> Thanks to o_contrary for cheerleading and titling this into existence at the expense of her own sanity, and to alcatraz for the super beta sweep. There's also some cute art for this fic [here](http://37.media.tumblr.com/eb04616de2e8fa88ba5f4385ea899c5e/tumblr_n5rrsm628I1qegyh3o6_r1_500.png) by the wonderful hawberries!


End file.
